


The un-making

by Anarchyinplasma



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Short, written ages ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8531833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarchyinplasma/pseuds/Anarchyinplasma
Summary: What followed Pahanin out of the Vault scarred him until his death.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written AGES ago as a little competition between myself and a friend to see who would write the better version of this little scenario (I think I win, it's been three months and he hasn't even started).

Kabr thrust his fist through the abdomen of a Vex encroaching upon him, the glass shattered, showering the area in viscous white fluid as the glowing red eye faded slowly into nothingness. Praedyth unleashed the power of the void to his right, a sphere of nothing, streaming toward the lines of Praetorians guarding the entrance to the fault, leaving a trail of particulates in its wake as the Vex entered a defensive formation, the knees locked at a forty five degree angle as they aimed to protect their main bodies. Arms curled protectively over what might have been their heads.

Pahanin was dancing, Arc Blade spilling vital Vex ichor as he spread chaos among their ranks. Every kill extending the life cycle of the lethal ability. The blade slid through another Vex with nary a bite of friction. Electrical current superheating the fluid within to gas as the blade withdrew and the hunter turned to mere streaks of light, dancing glibly between the lesser Vex, feet carefully avoiding Venus shrubbery and hidden rocks.

Kabr snarled at the hobgoblin class Vex in front of him. Reaching up he grasped the underside of its chin with his right hand, digging his left into the crevasse of its neck. He applied his full strength, and the metal tore under the power of his grip, tearing a great fissure down the torso, the circuitry sparked under his grip, computing it's last helpless second.

Praedyth's bomb impacted, cancelling the Vex shielding and rending the metal into chunks, set cooling on the stone in piles held together by delicate lines of molten slag. Dripping onto the stone in glowing circles of heat. The metal circle concealing the entrance to the vault warped with the impact, buckling under the power of the void. Kabr strode through the wreckage, making a hole large enough for the others by his mere presence.

Down they went, picking their way through centuries of detris and growth, at the edge of a chasm, Pahanin snapped his fingers and turned to lights dancing in the cold dead air of the vault. Appearing on the other side, he motioned to the others to continue. In this manner, they soldiered on.

Finally, a well lit stage appeared, as they descended, a series of glowing cubes appeared, snaking tendrils of gold into reality from their entrance points. Kabr touched one, in his curiosity, and became unmade. His fingers first turned to gold, flaking away slowly, as the gold spread, so did the un-making, and it tore at Pahanin's mind.

He, who had known Kabr for years, their lives ingrained into each other's through lifetimes of slaughter and bloodshed, of defense and attack, sparring and arguments. His mind was torn at by talons of golden non-light, ripping at the edges and tearing chunks from his memory. He turned and ran, streaking through the vault as broken beams of once-lustrous light, fingers clawing at the damp, dark rocks as the entrance slowly came closer.

Praedyth stumbled as the Vex infected poured from the walls, he found a hole and ducked into it, descending further into the vault, until at last, he found an underground stream and a large flat rock. Into the maze he stumbled, ending upon a plinth, staring at the lights on the ceiling and watching as his time started to fracture.

Kabr, as his un-making continued, spread his light into the vault and created a well within its centre, he would die with honour, leaving a path for future Guardians.

Three days and several million miles later, Pahanin stumbled into the tower, his right vambrace missing, blood pouring from his eyes in tearful streams. He collapsed in the main area, chattering to himself. A young warlock sprinted over to help, and was forever changed by what she heard pouring from the mouth of the broken man.  
“Three or six or two or three or two or five…” on went the numbers. Streaming into the infinite reaches of time.


End file.
